


teenage love is so corny

by Decayingfurby



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Eddie Kaspbrak Loves Richie Tozier, First Kiss, M/M, Mutual Pining, Richie Tozier Loves Eddie Kaspbrak, Teen Romance, The Kissing Bridge (IT), Valentine's Day, honestly theyre just so gross and in love, no one moves yet so they still remember each other, teen reddie, theyre like 15
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-23
Updated: 2020-02-23
Packaged: 2021-02-28 05:14:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22858351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Decayingfurby/pseuds/Decayingfurby
Summary: From the wise and smart-mouth adjacent words of Stanley Uris, Richie Tozier was a ‘fucking pussy’.
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak & Richie Tozier, Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Comments: 3
Kudos: 107





	teenage love is so corny

**Author's Note:**

> So uh,,,,this was supposed to be a V-Day fic but I think I’m a few days too late lol. I’ve been working my ass off on this for awhile, and it’s the reason some of my other fics haven’t seen a good update. Idk if I even like this truthfully, but I sure hope someone does <3

From the wise and smart mouth-adjacent words of Stanley Uris, Richie Tozier was a ‘fucking pussy’. 

There were a few reasons that made this statement true. To begin with he was terrified of clowns, which fuck off, that was a reasonable fear! Especially considering the actual hell they went through a few years back. Richie was surprised he was still the only one in the group with some type of circus related phobia. Every time he saw one of those creepy porcelain harlequins in the antique store window he feared for his life, whole body shivering with goosebumps. If there had ever been a sliver of hope for him to miraculously recover from his fear of clowns, it had been snuffed out with Pennywise the dancing dickwad.

Another reason were Pomeranians. Not all dogs were scary, they were actually one of his favorite animals! But Pomeranians are actual hellspawns, and maybe he wouldn’t be so terrified of them if it weren’t for his aunt. She had a small white one named Porky. As far as Richie was concerned it was just a rabies ridden rat in a wig. It terrorized him when he was a toddler, stealing his toys and food and very nearly biting his arm off when he tried petting it. The damn thing chased him around his grandparents backyard like he was a squirrel, teeth bared and aiming for his neck. It was a stupid fear, he knew that, but sue him for having traumatic childhood experiences.

It didn’t compare to reason number uno for Stan’s constant berates of how much Richie needed to grow a pair. Really, he could understand the frustration. Three years worth of pining and across-the-room staring with obvious heart eyes was probably frustrating from an outsider's perspective. Richie was frustrated with himself because Stan was right, he was a grade A fucking pussy.

During the summer of ‘88, one year before the clown business, Richie realized he was in love with his best friend. Before that he had always thought Eddie was cute, which anyone would agree with. Eddie’s been adorable since diapers, pinchable cheeks ( _cute, cute, cute_ , no matter how many times his hand was slapped away), round doe eyes, freckles splashed across his skin. But then Richie understood, finally, that the feelings he had for Eddie weren’t just some observations he could brush off.

He remembered the rush of excitement and fear that barreled into him all at once, threatening to ruin Bill’s weekly sleepover. The Chordettes...bless those wonderful ladies. Bless Bill’s mom for having a record machine in the living room and no strict rules on how much music they could play and how loud. It was the weekend after all. Stan found the record and showed Bill, who turned around to show Eddie and Richie. Richie laughed with the others at a specific track name, but Eddie was visibly annoyed, arms crossed and cheeks puffed up and red. He looked...cute. He fussed and cried and complained when Bill put the record on. 

  
‘ _Eddie my love…._

_I love you so…._ ’

The lyrics danced around their heads, and none of them were taking it seriously. Stan and Bill held faux microphones, ineptly mouthing the words to the song. Richie nudged his elbow into Eddie’s waist too many times to count, and Eddie glared at him, beautiful doe eyes narrowed and pretty pink mouth pulled into a pout. Richie was only staring at him, smiling, laughing when Eddie huffed through his nose, romantic lyrics filling his ears, clogging his brain. Suddenly it was just him, Eddie, and The Chordettes. 

Richie remembered the way his heart pounded in his chest, watching Eddie so upset about the song, all while the ending words ‘ _Please, Eddie, don’t make me wait too long…_ ’ played. He remembered how flush he had gotten, how sick he felt when he realized he was in love with Eddie, this wasn’t some dumb crush anymore. These were genuine romantic feelings, slapping Richie in the face, calling him dirty and gross. He had felt so sick. So scared.

He had hoped it would go away. That it was just a heat of the moment kind of thing, and he’d go back to being not in love with his best friend. But three years later and the feelings were still there, multiplied now, and Richie feels like he can barely keep them contained. Every time Eddie hassles him, every time Eddie smiles or laughs, every time he wears those dumb red shorts and knee high socks and complains about how strict his mom is when it comes to rolling around in grass and dirt, Richie feels his heart tug, and it’s filling up to the brim with more love. More love for Eddie.

All of the Losers, sans Eddie, know how Richie feels about Eddie, because of course they do, Richie isn’t exactly subtle with his emotions. He tries to be, turtle help him, but Stan is right. Like fucking always. He’s always got these heart eyes around Eddie, always annoying and pissing Eddie off just to get attention from him. So it didn’t take long for Bill and Stan to notice, those following months after July of ‘88. Beverly was probably the quickest to realize, teasing Richie when Eddie wasn’t around. She would call him a ‘hopeless romantic’ with her mouth wrapped around a cigarette from another pack she had stolen from Keene’s pharmacy. Richie pouted through his own smoke, which wasn’t really his own since he bummed it from Bev. He would blow in her face and make her cough to shut her up after the fifth repeat of ‘ _Richie and Eddie, sittin’ in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G!_ ’

Her big mouth is what led to Ben and Mike finding out. They thought the other Losers had left the clubhouse and were stalling at the bottom of the stairs, Beverly comforting Richie through another one of her pep talks about his feelings and how he should tell Eddie. Ben had poked his head through the entrance of the clubhouse, suggesting Richie take up poetry. And Richie had yelped in surprise, twirling around and smacking Ben across the face on instinct. After Mike came back from getting Ben ice Richie was forced to spill whatever reason had possibly made him do something like smack a friend, even on accident, and Mike had simply smiled and told Richie what he keeps hearing.

_Just go for it._

Easier said than done. They had to know, had to understand, no matter how much he wanted to he just...couldn’t. Couldn’t find the right words, the right way to do it. Every time he thinks he has the perfect opportunity, his brain shuts down and he hesitates, nerves flaring and heart racing. It was the rejection that scared him. The ‘ _what if_ ’ scenarios. What if Eddie hated him? What if Eddie wanted nothing to do with him after finding out the truth, pushing him away because he wasn’t...normal. 

He thinks about Eddie, sweet and bashful Eddie, turning away from hanging out with the Losers simply because Richie was there. Doesn’t want to catch any diseases. Doesn’t want to be around the boy who likes him. He thinks about Eddie turning his nose up in disgust, cringing away from Richie but not in their way that makes it playful. The way that screams ‘ _Don’t look at me, you’re filthy_.’ He thinks about losing his best friend, and it makes him convulse, shaking from how hard he sobs into his pillow just about every night.

Stan says he’s being unreasonable. _Eddie would never want to stop being your friend_ , he says pointedly, every single time Richie brings it up. There’s a part of Richie that knows Stan is right, no matter what Eddie will always want to be their friend, and by default his as well. But it’s clouded by his self doubt. Maybe he was just being stupid.

* * *

“She asked me to be her valentine, ya know.”

Valentine’s Day is easily Richie’s least favorite day of the year. It’s too snobby, too egotistical. Stores, TV commercials, magazines even, rubbing your own loneliness in your face while couples that seemed to belong in fantasy novels plastered billboards and mocked you smugly. Even the cursed V-Day activities in school were horrible. The only reason he got cards was because it was mandatory each student get at least one or there’d be no free time in class.

Richie never kept the cards anyway. The candy would go into the pocket in his book bag that stored the least amount of heat while the sickly acts of commercialism and promised reward were tossed in the trash. All except for one. A little card with a cartoon frog, or fox, or whichever animal that year factory printed on it with the message **’TO: RICHIE FROM: EDDIE’**. He’s always kept Eddie’s cards for years, even before he realized he was head over heels for their local hypochondriac. _’They always looked the nicest,_ ’ he had claimed, but knew now that that simply wasn’t the case.

This year he decided to make his card to Eddie the nicest of the bunch. His mom loved helping him make homemade cards, because they were just as good as store bought, if not better. They came from the heart, which was a bit of a corny perspective for middle school traditions. But they weren’t in middle school now, entering their first year of high school, and Richie didn’t have to make cards anymore. He still wanted to, if only for his friends. He thought it was a nice gesture to show them that hey, he really does care about and love them all more than anything.

Eddie’s card was special, though. It was the only one shaped like a big heart, covered in glitter and confetti, and other tiny things he knew would drive Eddie crazy and irritate him. But it came from the heart, and Richie decided Stan and Bev and everyone was right. He needed to stop being such a fucking pussy. He was going to tell Eddie how he felt, even if did ruin his life.

That had been the plan, at least. Now they were sitting at the edge of the Kissing Bridge, just the two of them, Richie’s school bag thrown unceremoniously onto the dirt and a cigarette borrowed from Beverly between his lips. Eddie had his legs crossed next to him, not minding the dirt from the road much, but he had standards and refused to man spread like Richie.

Richie sucks in a good lung full of smoke and flicks the ash off, lolling his head to the side to look at Eddie. Pretty little Eddie Kaspbrak, with his dolphin shorts and ‘Derry High 1991’ sweater looking like an absolute dream. His face is twisted in a look of annoyance, causing a crease to form in between his brows, and Richie suddenly thinks how badly he wants to kiss it.

“Mom doesn’t understand why I told her no. I don’t think she understands or cares how uninterested I am.”

Eddie’s mom has made friends with a family who’s pretty new to Derry. Richie has only met them once, and sees them at every church visit his parents drag him to on Sundays. They’re an okay group of people, but they’re always a bit too enthusiastic during service, and it makes his skin crawl.

They have a daughter named Myra. She’s the very definition of a church girl, and Richie can’t stand her despite speaking to her once. He was positive the feeling was mutual. For some reason Mrs. K got it in her head that Myra and Eddie were perfect for each other, and apparently so did Myra. She was obnoxiously clingy to Eddie, to the point where Richie wouldn’t even be able to see him on Sundays apart from stares across the room.

“She’s nice enough, I guess,” Eddie continues, and Richie frowns when he realizes his cigarette is almost finished. “But I just don’t feel a connection. When she asked me to be her Valentine I clocked out. I had no idea what to say!” Usually Richie would laugh and crack a joke around now, but going into this feelings jam Eddie had begged him to seriously listen and be supportive. Richie always had a hard time telling Eddie no.

“I feel like there’s something wrong with me. For telling a girl no, I guess. I mean, I was supposed to say yes, right? It’s what you do when girls wanna be your valentine, yeah?”

The short answer was maybe. As far as Richie was concerned, if you didn’t want to, you had no reason to say yes. But he also knows it looks suspicious to turn down a girl, even if things don’t turn out how they’re supposed to, if his several unsuccessful dates with random class members his dad insisted he meet were anything to go by.

It’s useless to try and get anymore out of the stick, so Richie tosses his cigarette away with a flick. It rolls down the road and simmers out halfway across the bridge. “I’m not sure if I’m a reliable source, but I think trying to be someone you’re not is a waste of time.” Maybe he should take his own advice.

Eddie curls his nose up, giving the ground that look he gets when he’s not sure he understands something, and looks up at Richie curiously. Richie merely shrugs. “I mean, you don’t like Myra, that’s pretty fucking obvious. And there’s nothing wrong with that. It would be shitty to lead her on, make her think otherwise.” Though if Richie were being perfectly honest, he didn’t particularly give two shits about Myra’s feelings.

Eddie’s face turns thoughtful as he considers Richie’s advice, nodding his head absentmindedly. “I guess so...my mom would be really disappointed in me, though. But I suppose that’s another feature of rebellion, huh?” Richie grins. He doesn’t think he’ll ever get over how insistent Eddie is on disrespecting his mothers wishes. It was still a work in progress, but progress had definitely been made. The Losers were proud of him, and that was always a good enough confidence booster.

“Yeah, you don’t owe that lady shit, Eds.” Eddie frowns, tearing his eyes away from Richie to stare back at a patch of dirt on the road. He hugs his knees to his chest and Richie wishes he had grabbed two cigs instead of one. Even after all the shit his mom put him through, Richie knew that for some reason Eddie still loved her. He supposed it was hard to unlearn something you spent your whole life doing, even if that life was nothing more than a mirage. Talking ill about her usually got a negative reaction, so Richie keeps from saying anything else about it.

The valentine in his bag calls his name mockingly, and Richie wants to pull the voice from his head and stomp on it until it accumulated with the rest of the dirt. He does pull the bag closer to himself, letting it rest between his spread legs, one hand fiddling with the zipper. He wonders if now would be an awful time to give it to Eddie, all things considered. It wasn’t exactly an appropriate moment, but at the same time, how much longer would it take him to confess after chickening out again? Twenty seven years? Fat chance.

“Is something wrong, Rich?” Eddie’s voice is full of concern, and Richie chuckles because of course he was bad at hiding his emotions. He bites his lip and looks down at the bag, contemplating and conjuring up different scenarios for the ‘ _cerise sur le gâteau_ ’(was that how you say it? His French classes are always so boring).

Eddie might yell at him. Just...straight up scream in his face. Or he might laugh, as if Richie just told the funniest joke in the world. Or he might not even say anything, just purse those pretty lips, stand up, and leave Richie alone with his heart on his sleeve and a waste of paper with his feelings vomited all over it. In any case, he didn’t see this ending well. It was that fear of rejection that the other Losers castigate him for, that he knew was ludicrous, but couldn’t fucking help. 

Eddie’s still waiting for an answer as he looked between Richie and his book bag with his head tilted to the side. He kind of looked like a puppy, those ones you’d see in the windows of pet stores with their paw on the glass and an entire solar system in their impossibly wide eyes. It didn’t really help his situation. 

“Well, it’s uh...I’ve got my valentines cards for you and the rest of the Losers. I was thinking about goin’ ahead and giving you yours, cause I wanna see how well you like it.” He gets straight to the point, tired of beating around the bush. Eddie’s eyebrows pinch together and he rolls his eyes. 

“Really? You know you don’t have to keep making those like we’re in middle school, right? Besides, what’s wrong with waiting to give me mine with the others?”

“Uh, well...because you’re already here, so why not, right?” A blatant lie. He was just chock full of those today, wasn’t he? It was evident Eddie could see right through it, narrowing his eyes and _please_ stop doing that, you look so _cute_. 

To Richie’s surprise Eddie just shrugs and holds his hands out. “Fine, then give it to me.” Richie isn’t sure how to respond, caught off guard by the lack of dissent. He blinks a few times and realizes he’s sitting there, mouth gaped open like a fish, probably looking dumb as shit so quickly he tears open his bag, reaching a nervous hand down into the recesses of it, in between the dog-chewed textbooks and three year old reused binders.

He pulls the card out and hands it over, hand shaky and hesitant. Eddie’s eyes tear away from Richie to stare at the card as he grabs the heart shaped paper, flipping it over once before reading the text on the front. Richie feels his own heart threatening to beat out of his chest.

“ ** _TO: Eddie FROM:Richie...tell your mom sorry I couldn’t bring her chocolates this year_** -Richie, what the fuck?” Eddie glares over at him, annoyance visibly painting his face, and Richie laughed, but his entire body is exploding with nerves. Eddie just scoffs and turns the card back over to continue reading. “ _i_ _know you’re probably gonna hate me for this, and i understand. but ive been meaning to tell you that...i like you...as more than a friend...will you be my valentine_...Richie...”

“Ehehe...good one, right? Richie Tozier cracks jokes like he’s cracking eggs for an omelette, in hearty amount! And these eggs are _huge_ , Eds, trust me-“

“Richie.”

Richie gulps, adjusting his glasses once more after they threaten to slip from his sweaty nose. He scratches at the back of his neck and finally looks up to meet Eddie’s stare. He was expecting something more angry or disgusted, but was met with a very sincere and gentle face. He swallows the lump in his throat and looks at the card, then back at Eddie.

“Do...do you not hate it?” The question feels stupid, but hey he was pretty good at that. Eddie sighs and places the card very gently back into Richie’s bag, zipping it back up and grabbing his own to scoot closer to Richie, so close their arms connected and Richie could feel Eddie’s breath on him. The sensation made him feel dizzy, something that normally happened around Eddie.

“No, I don’t hate it...it’s very sweet. It looks like you worked very hard on it. Do the uh...do the others’ cards look like that?” Richie’s eyes widen at the blush blooming across Eddie’s face, his mind racing a million miles per second. He certainly hadn’t been expecting a reaction like that, so it caught him off guard, question and all.

Spastically Richie shakes his head ‘no’, deciding not to say ‘ _oh yeah, I just wrote a love confession to all the Losers individually on giant heart shaped cards_ ’ because he did not need his trashmouth to ruin the moment like that. 

“Richie...do you really feel that way?”

“Yeah...I do. I’m sorry-“

“No!” Eddie looks almost frantic as grabs Richie’s shirt, bunching it up in his hands. Richie shudders at the contact. “No, don’t apologize, I...the reason I didn’t want to be Myra’s valentine, the real reason, is because, I mean-“

Richie isn’t entirely sure what makes him do it. Nerves, spur of the moment, the tiny voice in the back of his head saying _if this were a cheesy Hollywood movie, this would be the perfect scene for a big shock value moment, wouldn’t you agree?_ , or maybe even his heart. But before Eddie can finish whatever he was gonna say Richie has his face in his hands and they’re kissing. Well, their lips are pressed together at an awkward angle, and he can feel Eddie’s teeth against his own, but hey, practice makes perfect.

When he pulls away Eddie’s eyes are wide, the blush from before still prominent and even bigger now and Richie was pretty sure his own face looked as bright as a tomato. It wasn’t the best first kiss, but in his defense he’s not had much practice aside from Beverly helping him figure out if he really didn’t like girls and yeah, he was pretty sure that was the case. If kissing a girl that a good chunk of boys their age fawned over made him feel nothing, and kissing another boy who was also his best friend did, then well, there was his answer. 

“I’m not...sure why I did that,” he manages to croak out. “It just felt like the right thing to do, and if that makes sense. You know, now that I think about it really doesn’t. My point is, it seemed like a good as moment as any, and you know me, taking risks is like something I’m really good at. Unfortunately kissing isn’t, so I guess I should apologize for that, too-“

“Richie, please stop talking.” Richie snaps his mouth close and grins awkwardly, trying to convey ‘sorry’ through his facial expressions. Eddie rolls his eyes, and Richie thinks that might be a bad habit of his. “That was probably the worst first kiss in the history of fucking forever.”

“Wow, thanks Eds-“

“Shut the fuck up. It sucked, but I liked it. It was so you, Richie...” Eddie grabs Richie’s hands and they once again catch each others gaze. Richie thinks he can see stars in the browns of Eddie’s eyes, and it feels like he’s floating through space as Eddie rubs circles just underneath the base of his thumbs. 

Maybe this is what heaven was like. Maybe after confessing his undying love he died from rejection and now who he was staring at wasn’t even Eddie, it was an angel trying to make his last moments on earth special. If that were the case then God sure was some kind hearted bastard. It sucked that Eddie didn’t feel the same way, though. 

This felt real. He really wanted it to be. He wanted the last two years of his life spent yearning and longing for someone he couldn’t have to mean something, because otherwise God could go fuck himself. Herself? Whatever. 

“Eds...are you saying you like me back?” Eddie bites his lower lip, a bashful expression on his face, and Jesus H. Christ Richie really wants to kiss him again. “Because if you are then I think you just made me literally the happiest fucking guy in the galaxy.”

“Oh, come on. Don’t exaggerate.”

“I am _not_ exaggerating, Eddie. I’ve liked you since we were like fucking twelve, seriously. I even carved our initials onto this stupid bridge!” Eddie’s eyes widen as he glanced around, grazing over the wooden bridge behind them. He probably couldn’t see it from here, but the reaction still made Richie flush. “I really feel this way about you, so please don’t play with my feelings. I need to know if you feel the same way.”

“Of course I like you, Richie.” It’s an immediate response. “You’re so stupid. I realized I liked you that awful fucking summer in ‘89. Almost getting eaten by a demon clown really put things into perspective for me. When I broke my arm...seeing you so worried about me. Seeing how much you cared about me made me feel things I didn’t really understand, but after we fought Pennywise I realized what I felt for you wasn’t something boys aren’t supposed to feel for their friends. And I was scared. I was so scared.”

“I was too! I still am...” And could you blame them? Growing up in a town like Derry wasn’t exactly an enjoyable experience. It was like they were stuck in a constant loop of the entirety of the fifties, discrimination being barely given a second glance as a way too weed out the ‘lesser folk’. Every time Richie stood too close, or playfully hit Eddie a bit affectionately it felt like the entire town was eyeing him down, just waiting for someone to put him in his place. It was dangerous to feel the way they did.

“I guess we’re both pretty dumb, huh?” Eddie smiles and shakes his head.

“Totally. But you’re way dumber than I am.”

“Tell that to my grades, smart ass!”

“Okay, fair point. But at least I didn’t carve our initials onto the freaking Kissing Bridge! That’s so fucking risky, you know that?”

Of course he did. The entire time he had done it, Richie constantly looked over his shoulder to make sure no one approached him or could see him from afar. He hadn’t had a proper excuse for who ‘E’ in his carving was. There weren’t really any girls he could think of with an ‘E’ name. And people loved to assume. But honestly, he didn’t care. To him that was like a big fat ‘fuck you’ to every single person in Derry, because nothing and no one had the ability to stop making Richie feel the way he did.

“So are you not gonna take my card home with you?”

Eddie sighs and rubs at his wrist. It’s cute. Everything he does is cute. “Do you know how mom would react if she found that? It’s a really nice card, Rich...I just can’t.”

Right. He gets it. Of course Eddie can’t take it home, was he nuts? Richie nods and clicks his tongue. “Yeah, it’s fine. I’ll just rip it into a billion shreds and bury it, I guess. At least you saw it, that’s all that matters. “

Eddie smiles. It’s the most beautiful thing Richie’s ever seen, and he’ll never get tired of it. Eddie leans up and kisses Richie’s cheek, causing a burst of pink to color Richie’s face as he leans against his side, resting his head on Richie’s shoulder. Richie once again wonders if he had died and was now living in his own personal heaven.

“It sucks, Richie. It really sucks. I’m just glad you feel the same way as me.”

“Yeah...fuck, yeah, me too. Would you...would you wanna be my valentine, maybe?”

Richie doesn’t need to see Eddie’s face to know he’s smiling. “Of course I would you moron.”

**Author's Note:**

> Oh and fyi, that little bit of French in there is supposed to say ‘cherry on the cake’ but it’s been forever since my Sophomore courses so please forgive me if it’s wrong lol


End file.
